


Des-ire

by DesolatedDescole (BrambleTakato)



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Ah yes symbolism, Angst, Azran Legacy, Azran Legacy Spoilers, Blood, Bostonius Gang:TM:, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Coughing, Desmond you better stop being a manchilD, Flowers, Gen, Layton Kyouju | Professor Layton Spoilers, Platonic Hanahaki Disease, Platonic Relationships, Tags May Change, blame the azran, i swear if you view this as romantic, raymond is best boy fight me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:29:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25269886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrambleTakato/pseuds/DesolatedDescole
Summary: "Refusal to pour out your feelings shall end up with you swallowed up by them instead..."Descole has been experiencing pain in his chest ever since he fled from Layton back in Misthallery, and the problem has only grown worse. Now under the "disguise" of Desmond, he has to continue his journey around the world with Layton and his group to get revenge on Targent and the Azran. The only problem is that thisillnessof sorts has not been getting better either...
Relationships: Hershel Layton & Desmond Sycamore, Raymond & Desmond Sycamore
Comments: 10
Kudos: 14





	Des-ire

* * *

A day like this was always wished upon from everyone at some point.

Delicate clouds roamed freely overhead, painted with an outline of gentle gold from the evening sun, strokes of pink and indigo following shortly behind. The skies were dipped with a peachy color, and the sun was drowning within the land gracefully. A subtle breeze would lick the terrain, stirring the grass and the leaves of the nearby foliage into wake, while sometimes an unknown type of bird would sing a repetitive tune, only to be left unanswered.

Desmond wished he could enjoy this day. He couldn’t.

The world outside of the Bostonius seemed lively, as he watched Layton interact with his parents from the corner of the aircraft’s window. It was almost like it called to him, a silent plea for him to join with this temporary harmony. Desmond looked away, his expression somewhat dreadful as he stared at the royal purple couches.

Raymond soon met his side, his eyes seemingly closed, but Desmond knew that was just a subconscious ruse. Squinted would be a better word, but it was no lie that Raymond was very well aware of what Desmond was feeling right now.

“Master,” he began, his voice almost as gentle as the wind outside, “we still have some time to at least get some insight from a doctor.” It was almost a suggestion. Desmond narrowed his maroon eyes, almost having the gesture unnoticed due to his crimson rimmed glasses.

This pain of sorts was currently a dull throb. Desmond could still feel it, but he had learned to not bother with it.

This pain started after he explored another abandoned ruins of the Azran, which he decided upon after fleeing from Layton back in Misthallery. It was a small expedition, so small that he believed he didn't remember much from the adventure. That was when the pain began however, after he had figured he solved some of the Azran’s puzzles left behind for centuries upon centuries. At first he thought it wasn’t related at all, perhaps even coincidental. But every time he was reminded of him and his simple, bead-like eyes, the amount he has _grown_ , the day Desmond lost him… The pain would flare up in his chest, scarily on cue. He’d cough sometimes, then eventually had convinced himself that Layton was somehow at fault for this pain. A curse. It had to be. It sounded absurd, but Desmond wouldn’t be surprised at this point from his experience with the Azran so far. Perhaps he had gone insane instead. He wasn’t able to draw the line if he still was sane or not anymore.

That’s what pushed him over the edge back when he tried to raise Ambrosia. The pain always made it’s appearance when he was around Layton, thinking of Layton, reminded of Layton. It was worse when he was confronted. He tried to play it off, resisting the urge to cough more as the pain would entangle his lungs, but when he decided that the top-hatted man that he used to know was a threat, just like how Leon turned out… That was the worst he had ever felt it be. Thus he felt like perhaps… If Layton had been causing these things somehow, then…

Desmond felt the pain begin to increase again. He raised his head a little as he frowned forcefully yet slightly, forcing himself not to cough in front of Raymond while he felt the urge. Raymond read his expression and knew immediately what was going on, as if he was psychic. “... Is there something on your mind, Master?” Raymond asked remarkably calmly, hoping that having Desmond open up would ease him in some way. But, he merely shook his head in response, refusing the opportunity. Raymond (assumedly) stared at Desmond, wanting to help, but conflicted with how he should word his thoughts.

Raymond had known for quite some time, ever since Desmond had teamed up with Randall with a grand plan. Desmond had been trying to hide his condition from Raymond a while before-hand, but he had once coughed in front of him.

Desmond thought it would just be a normal cough and nothing to be concerned about.

Raymond thought otherwise when he saw the small amount of bloodied, tiny purple petals eject from Desmond’s mouth.

Ever since then, it was a constant battle between Desmond and Raymond of going to the doctor or not to get this identified. They found out the petals were similar to a hydrangea, but obviously none of the symptoms of even coming into contact with them included petals coming out of someone’s mouth naturally.

No, nothing was natural about this.

“Just... Make sure the Bostonius is ready for takeoff.” Desmond simply said, and without another word he had already started to walk closer to the purple furniture. Though, just as Raymond was about to speak with a nod, the door to the Bostonius had been opened mindfully. If it wasn’t for the slight increase of the noise outside, Desmond would’ve not gotten the hint that the door was opened to begin with. He turned his head, only to see Layton gazing back at him somewhat absentmindedly, a puzzled expression seemingly tugging at the back of his mind silently.

Desmond simply gave a smile-- Part of his disguised personality as Desmond-- and smoothly stood up straighter. He was seconds to sitting on the couch, but he quickly put that to a halt. The pain that had come back as soon as Layton arrived in the aircraft was thankfully generous, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t bothering Desmond. It still hurt, just not as much compared to the other times he was around the English gentleman.

No matter what happens now, though, Desmond knew that he was so close to his goal. This foreign occurrence has proved to not be contagious through some experimenting in the past, and thus, Desmond decided to prioritize his revenge on Targent and the Azran over that as well. He’d have to endure it for now, he couldn’t falter due to some stupid illness. He was going to go through with this plan, even if it kills him.

Desmond walked over to Layton, his deep red gaze locked on him gently as he spoke;

“Ah, Professor. Have you said your goodbyes?”

* * *

Soon after they took flight, the skies were now a dark, almost navy blue color. A few specks of light were able to be seen scattered above, only for more and more to fill up overhead as the night continued to draw themselves in deeper. The only thing that broke this darkness was the slim waning moon that hung along with the stars, and the city lights dappled far below the Bostonius. Everyone had gone to sleep within one of the rooms of the aircraft, specifically the office… Which is now a makeshift bedroom due to the air mattresses inside it. They were tired from all of the exploring of London, and they were told that they had to get up early. 

Well. Everyone was asleep, except for Raymond and Desmond.

Raymond was for obvious reasons; The Bostonius’ navigation system was certainly state-of-the-art, but it was just a mere navigation system, he’d still have to obviously take the reins with controlling the aircraft. For the Bostonius to automatically fly itself safely and change course whenever there was something in the way would be a dream, but sadly, not one that they are currently within reach for now.

Desmond on the other hand almost seemed lifeless. Some of the group had already pointed out his eyebags that darkened under his eyes (Aurora stayed oblivious), and yet, he wasn’t able to sleep even if he tried. He’d blame the disease. He had been laying on the purple sofa, trying to get some shut-eye, but in the end he’d eventually cough out some more bloodied petals. Keats eventually decided to sleep in the corner of the Bostonius instead of on the couch, perhaps annoyed by the constant noises of coughing.

It still felt painful, he felt slightly dizzy and nauseous as well. He wasn’t sure if the aircraft was to blame for that, or if it was this strange, mysterious illness. Every time he coughed too, he felt like he might choke on a petal. That almost happened once, and each time he did cough some out, he was dangerously close to choking on them anyway. Desmond tried his best to hide his groans, but there was no doubt that Raymond was able to hear. He heard a click from the control panel, and some rhythmic footsteps as well.

Confused, Desmond rose his head from the sofa slowly and saw Raymond walking away from the Bostonius’ control panel. For a split second he panicked, though reminded himself that they had installed a cruise control feature for the Bostonius. It was going to be a long ride anyway, and if Raymond was daring enough to turn it on then that’d mean there didn’t seem to be any obstacles nearby; They were high up in the sky, after all.

Raymond turned the corner, went down the steps and approached Desmond. But before Raymond could say a word, Desmond shook his head, as if he knew what was going on in the butler’s mind. They were both close, undeniably. “No, Raymond-- I’m fine.” Desmond’s gravelly tone of voice didn’t convince him, but it still made him question what he could even do in this situation. Raymond had done some silent research behind Desmond’s back, but came up fruitless to any sort of cure or relief, or any information at that.

But, Raymond despite all of this gave a benign and comforting smile, his lips concealing his teeth. “Would you prefer some tea, Des?” Raymond usually uses the term “master” around him, yet, he felt like this was more on a personal level. He may be his butler, but undoubtedly is he the closest to Des, regardless if he was Desmond, Descole, or some other identity. He cared, almost seeing him like a son.

Desmond had paused, processing the question as if he didn’t expect for Raymond to word it like that. It wasn’t like it was anything bad though, in fact he appreciated it. It just caught him off-guard ever so suddenly. “... Yeah.” He said quietly, giving in as he leaned his head back onto the arm of the sofa, trying to keep his breathing as inaudible as possible. But it was obvious that it was somewhat hoarse, despite his best attempts to still hide it.

The senior Scotsman simply gave a nod, and calmly walked towards the door to the kitchen, opening it and then gently closing it to not wake anyone up. The kitchen was right below the office area, after all. Which, Desmond had only now just considered how dangerous the layout design was. If a fire happened, then the office was undoubtedly in danger of collapsing in on itself, or at least be of concern after the kitchen.

Despite Raymond’s best attempts of being silent, that was soon broken by another coughing fit of Desmond’s, which was violent enough for him having to resort to lean onto his side and cough into his arm shakily. Each breath hurt, and it was hard to get any air in the first place. Coughing was worse; The sudden and harsh exhales felt like his insides were stabbing his chest and tugging on his lungs repetitively. He wouldn’t be surprised if one day he coughed and his lungs just somehow got coughed out too. It was hard to inhale as well, so for a moment he worried he might even suffocate. Desmond felt the verge to vomit as he felt more of those cursed petals escape his throat, yet he managed to refrain after his coughing fit by sheer willpower, though he felt somewhat dizzy afterwards.

He lifted his head from his arm feebly, only to see more of those bloodied yet small purple petals, falling in clumps from his arm and onto the carpeted ground below. He started to question if they were even flower petals at this point, but the petals certainly resembled that of a flower’s. Desmond felt too pained to get up to pick up the petals and dispose of them, trying to catch his breath. He felt... Miserable. A small part of him wished he took up that offer to see a doctor.

* * *

Soon enough, Raymond came out from the kitchen, a tea kettle in one hand and a cup in another. Desmond eyed him with his glasses-bare maroon gaze, yet didn’t move from his position, which would be best described as an infirm lay on the sofa’s cushions. Delicately, Raymond placed the old-fashioned kettle on a heat resistant square cloth that was laid on the wooden surface, and handed him the cup to Desmond. It had the same theme as the kettle, which could be described as something that a grandma would most likely have. White with vintage flowers painted on it… Desmond was reminded of the strange illness once more, and coughed slightly almost as if on cue, paused, then took the teacup from Raymond.

It didn’t cross the Scotsman’s mind at the time, though he looked down and saw the mess of purple petals on the floor. Raymond’s frown could almost be considered diaphanous as he leaned down, and started to scoop up the petals for Desmond. Eventually, he looked up, his eyes being slightly seeable despite the fact that his eyes had become squinted from old age. Desmond glanced at him tiredly.

“It’s going to keep getting worse.” Raymond said, a considerable amount of worry in his elderly gaze and tone of voice. It was gentle sounding, yet firm in a way, as if trying to discreetly reason with the stubborn bread-haired man. They knew close to nothing about this illness, but it showed no signs of getting better. Raymond was hopeful, but that didn’t mean he was blind to the truth. If they weren’t careful, then Desmond could… Potentially die.

Desmond stared at him with a contemplative emotion in his eyes, though he eventually looked down at his cup of tea and took a sip quietly. It was Chamomile, but with a hint of honey mixed in as well, making it sweet but not sickly, more-so a herbal type of sweet. Admittedly, it soothed his throat a little. It didn’t stop the pain, but he felt like he could at least breathe a bit better, from his stomach at least.

He gave Raymond an appreciative look, though didn’t say anything. His loyal butler gazed at him for a moment longer, before giving a sigh, going over to the blanket that hung over the edge of the sofa and draped it carefully onto Desmond. It seemed like he was about to protest, but thought better of it, his gaze turning somewhat guilty. “... Thanks.” Desmond said almost sheepishly, taking another sip from his cup of tea. Raymond sat next to him, his smile meek but noticeable. Silence formed between the two, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just being in the presence of someone that _cared_ … Desmond couldn’t help but to feel warm, and the blanket wasn’t at fault for that.

Eventually, Desmond was the one to break the silence. "Raymond, I--..." He looked at the steps to the control panel, hesitant and narrowing his eyes slightly. "... I don't know."

Raymond gave a slightly quizzical look as he wasn't quite sure of what Desmond was talking about, but Desmond soon turned his attention to the table, the kettle still having a wisp of steam emitting from the spout. "How long do you estimate this whole trip is going to take now? Finding the Azran eggs and all of that."

The old man started to calculate in his head, indicated by the mild frown and the furrow of an eyebrow. Eventually, he looked back over to the ill man on the couch. "If we are very lucky and manage to find the Azran eggs on the same day we arrive, then at least a week." But Raymond knew they couldn't pinpoint exactly how long it'd take. For all they know, the Azran eggs could still be buried deep within the locations Desmond said for them to be in, or perhaps even undersea or in another's possession far away from the original spot. Desmond seemed to also be taking this into consideration. "With Targent on our tails, we can't really scour a place for too long." His tone of voice had a hint of disgust with the mention of Targent, that barbarous organization that stripped everything away from him. Eventually, Desmond sighed harshly, upset. "... I should've expected this. I didn't think they'd even find out about our plans _,_ yet, here we are, and now they're more than likely to show up at the locations we'll end up at." He scowled, glaring at the couch.

Raymond got off of the purple sofa and put a hand on Desmond's shoulder. Desmond had the urge to pull away, but he managed to refrain from doing so with the cost of tensing up.

"We haven't lost yet, we still have time." His voice was gentle, comforting. Even with those simple words, Desmond had glanced up at Raymond, still upset but obviously listening. "We have the upper hand. Targent may still be after us and the Azran, but we have Aurora on our side."

Desmond's once narrowed eyes soon somewhat relaxed. He was still paranoid of the idea of Targent getting to the artifacts first, but... Raymond was right. Targent may be knowledgeable about the Azran, but Aurora had been able to sense if something Azran-related was nearby according to what they had seen from her so far. He heavily doubted that Targent had something that could sense Azran locations and items, and maybe... Desmond and the rest of the group accompanying him might have a better chance of scouting out these eggs with the help of the "living mummy".

He coughed a bit into his arm while he tightened his grasp on the teacup's handle. Eventually, Desmond raised his head, seeing another petal float down. Raymond let go of his shoulder and hunched over to get the bloodied petal so that nobody else would find it, but Desmond spoke in the meantime. "I still say that time is a very urgent matter in this case, but..." Desmond eased, averting his glance from Raymond. "... You're right," he inhaled, "even if worse comes to worse, we'll find a way."

Raymond smiled tenderly as he rose up; Seeing Desmond being hopeful was a nice change of pace. Usually it's hard to reason with Desmond due to his incredibly stubborn nature, but he was glad that his master had calmed down regardless.

* * *

Eventually, after he finished his cup of tea (rather quickly, Raymond mused), his attention drifted back to the senior ally, a genuine expression worn on him faintly. Desmond felt like he was the only person he could truthfully trust with his burdens, as, well… He viewed Raymond more than just a butler; A close friend, his partner in crime.

“Raymond.” He began, but a long pause followed after. Soon however, a tired smile formed on Desmond. “... When did I ever deserve you?” He said almost in a playful tone of voice, which only made Raymond chuckle mirthfully. Desmond didn’t expect an answer, but Raymond came with one anyway; “Ever since we met, as far as I’m aware.”

Desmond gazed at him with surprise flickering in his red eyes for a moment, before giving a small nod and handing the cup to Raymond. The Scotsman grasped on it, and was about to refill it before Desmond shook his head. “No, it’s fine, just… I want to sleep more than anything.” He admitted with a frown. Raymond didn’t hesitate as he held the kettle and the cup, a rather kind-hearted expression worn on him. “Don’t overwork yourself tomorrow.” Raymond said with his smile unwavering, and ambled back into the kitchen with the two items in his hands.

He stared after him for a moment or two before giving a sigh, a hushed cough followed shortly afterwards but it thankfully didn’t yield any flower petals, not yet. He would usually protest to not work as hard as he usually does, but then again, he figured that tomorrow would focus on exploring more than intensive activities, like fencing or infiltrating. Regardless, perhaps the tea helped in more ways than one, as the pain was now a throb; A reminder but not painfully present. However, Desmond was reminded of just how tired he was… It was hard to even keep his eyelids half-open. And thus, shuffling a little bit to get into a comfortable position, he started to dose off into a deep slumber, snug in the blanket that Raymond gave him earlier.

This was going to be a long journey, huh?

**Author's Note:**

> (UPDATED; 9/9/2020); So, it's been a while, huh? Let me explain and clarify a few things first.  
> TLDR; Inactivity due to adopting two cats recently, chapter releases will be slow and unpredictable.
> 
> 1) This fanfiction is not abandoned, though it's probably gonna be put on an immediate hiatus as I am now a proud parent of two cats; Apollo and Loki! I coincidentally adopted them a few days after I posted this fanfic, so I had to put my priorities straight. I'm terribly sorry if this has caused some disappointment for not updating this at all, but I swear I won't completely abandon it yet.  
> That being said; I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this story. I like to go by the seat of my pants, and although I already have the first part of Chapter 2 drafted, I'm not... Entirely proud of how it's going, so I might rewrite it all, which will eat up more time and delay chapter 2's release a bit more. I will give a hint though for the upcoming chapter; Tags say a lot about a story as a whole!
> 
> 2) I uh... I literally never read any sort of Hanahaki disease-related fanfiction, all I know is the base idea of Hanahaki. So this may turn out to not be Hanahaki at all but instead some sort of strange new disease due to me not doing my research, haha... Oh well. I'm not sure if there's some rules to Hanahaki stories or not, but... I'm bound to probably break them LMAO. Not sure if that is a problem or not, but I just wanted to give a fair warning in case any of y'all are super attached to the rules of Hanahaki.. or.. something.. I dunno it's like 3am as I'm writing this akjfnekgre.
> 
> 3) The chapters of this story will not be on a schedule-based release as opposed to what I had proposed before. It's hard to get motivation, though when I do they come in massive bursts and that tends to randomize releases more-often than not. If I get multiple chapters done in one sitting then I may start to release them on a weekly basis or "every other week"ly basis, but for now their release dates are up in the air.
> 
> That's all I have to say for now, I just thought I should clarify why I've been inactive for a bit with this story right after I said I wasn't gonna put this in the unfinished works-- Which I won't for now! Though, I still would really appreciate and accept criticism, as I still want to learn and grow as someone who does writing as a hobby. Thank you if you read this incredibly long note, sincerely. ^ ^


End file.
